I had intentions of blogging about my parents’ visit this past weekend. Should that have not gelled appropriately, I could have posted about the rather nasty little weather system that is once again plaguing our generally fair-weathered city.
But that seems all rather secondary now.
Mr.Q’s grandmother passed away today during surgery. She had fallen yesterday, while hanging Christmas decorations and broke her thigh bone, right above the knee. Apparently that’s a very unusual place for a break and whatever they needed to do to fix it required that she go under the knife. She had to stop her blood thinners and wait for an OR to become available.
That happened earlier today but, during surgery, her heart stopped. [as I understand it]
Her heart had been through a lot: growing up as one of 16 children shortly after the turn of the century in Manitoba, serving in the 2nd world war, raising four children – in part on army bases in Germany, in part by herself while her husband’s postings changed frequently – waiting for her husband while he served in Korea, and later making sure the family remained together by hosting large family dinners nearly every weekend. My first introduction to Mr.Q’s family was at one of these gatherings, and the sheer magnitude of it was nearly enough to drive me out under a rock, but she handled it effortlessly and no one ever left with all the buttons on their pants done up.
In more recent years, she began to suffer from memory loss and aggression – a combination of dementia and strokes – and, perhaps, depression. It can be so difficult to exactly diagnose and even more difficult to treat when the patient can’t realise that anything is amiss.
This has been such a sudden, bizarre, sad evening. She was the last grandmother Mr.Q and I had, and the only one to meet babyQ. I know it hasn’t fully sunk in for either myself or Mr.Q. I’m not sure when it will. I just hope we’re okay when it does.